the
skull the names distraught unnamed the deer shaped eyes look but
cannot name

so
strange for life to leave behind the

names
when story vanishes with one

directionless
and what is subject hidden

present
moment glowing with the weight

of
names soundless round silence and

absolute
grove of aloneness all things

without
titles

The
boondocks must have missed me

For
they dragged me back

Insisting
everyplace is home

I
have lost all hope

I
put hydrocodone in my coffee

There
is no power behind my walking

My
shoes are made of strip malls

I
am in the kitchen like a broken plate

My
son’s eye cannot see what he’s eating

And
so he’s stopped eating

The
food is blurry to his eye

I
must see a shrink and still I whisper

On
the dance floor of death

Loud
as the city where a better life is

29. silence
now appears, bodies

kept
in boxes, nature’s magic

causes
the body to vanish, mis-

taken
for what it was and

no
recapitulation for what has

left,
mostly mistaken about it-

self,
tired and scorched, the book of life

the
body itself being robbed daily

of
the physical realm, the ghostly stones, their

magnificent
dignity, remains unperturbed,

whether
to float or not: what approaches

is
a sound it cannot hear

children
that aren’t capable

of
staying alive what is still alive

the
ancient colored pencil

,
a baseball-sized face

it's
horrible enough i

face,
an abortion one baby

a
border

,
like standing

i
have a scary let me out

i
am walking

,
i want to change

i'm
bitchery you can't pencil

i
am

completely

an
expert

of
something

i
am being a psychological

rather
hypocritically

don't
ask me

jaded

i
take a stand

prayer
is still alive

no
surprise

i
am the wrong

loud

eyes
of music

Poems
by Bobbi Lurie have
appeared in numerous print and online journals including American
Poetry Review, New American Writing, Gulf Coast, Big Bridge, diode,
Shampoo and Otoliths. She
is the author of three collections: The Book I Never Read, Letter
from the Lawn and Grief
Suite.